


Red Child

by pseudocitrus



Series: Red Child AU [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul:re
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Kid Fic, Oneshot, Touken, Tousaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3195602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sasaki, a half-ghoul, learns that he's somehow made Touka, a human, pregnant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Child

**Author's Note:**

> i don't usually write stories with babies in them but i got inspired by recent asks and prompts.
> 
> the specific prompt was: "I wanted to ask you if maybe you could write a fanfic with them both having a baby boy. A little ghoul baby that they have to take care of ;w;"
> 
> and the other stipulation-ish thing was that this baby would have a pudding head like sasaki. ohoho~

“Are you _sure_?”

The words slip out before Sasaki realizes, and he immediately backpedals.

“I mean — that’s not what I — I mean, it’s just, because I’m” — _a half-ghoul_ — “and you, you’re” — _a normal human._

There should be rules about this kind of thing. Laws of nature that should say this is impossible.

But Touka’s gaze is steady. Her hands are on the cafe table, and one tightens its grip on the other.

“I’m sure.”

She’s pregnant.

His — _girlfriend_ , is that the right word for it? His lover? His…woman that he loves. Is _pregnant_.

After the disbelief comes a strange, almost painful happiness. Sasaki feels dizzy; he reels with joy. His mouth spreads into a helpless, silly grin, and he curls his palm over it.

_I’m going to have a child!_

And after that comes horror. When his hand drops from his mouth, he’s no longer smiling. He reaches forward across the table and takes her hands in his.

He swallows, and then just says it.

“It’s not going to survive.”

That her eyes never waver tells him that she’s already realized this, that any fetus inside of her is likely not completely human, and therefore likely to not be sustained through just her flesh and blood.

“It will,” Touka says. “I’m sure of it.”

“Touka —”

“I’m _not_ going to leave it,” she says fiercely. Her hands are stiff. “But you don’t need to stay.”

Even now he isn’t sure how she came to be this way, how she always seems to be waiting relentlessly for people to abandon her. There must have been someone in the past that hurt her, maybe multiple someones, but he is determined not to become one of them. His grip tightens on her hands.

“I won’t leave you,” Sasaki says. “Never.”

He says it loudly enough that Yomo, who is cleaning behind the empty cafe’s counter, should be able hear it. He hears the wiping stop for a little, hears a snort, and Sasaki doesn’t need to look around to know his words made it through.

Her cheeks warm, slightly; her mouth curves, slightly. He hates to break the start of her smile, but he has to.

“I won’t leave you,” he repeats, “but there’s just no way that it will survive.”

“There is,” Touka says, “and you know it.”

Neither of them say anything.

“You...” His voice is weak. “You...really...?”

She nods.

“Yes. But I’ll need…” Touka’s words trail off into a swallow. “So if you really want to stay…please help me.”

“Of course,” he says. He meets with Arima that afternoon.

:::

His interactions with Touka over the next week are strange. They don’t talk about _it_ , and he forces his head away from toddlers on the train, forces his mind away from questions like _Is my apartment is too small?_

Approval of Sasaki’s request sinks through the CCG ranks slowly, and for days he is terrified that his famous “father’s” good word won’t be enough this time, and that the CCG will take offense, and for some reason add Touka to their list of existences that need to be eliminated. But then a message appears on his desk, with directions to a refrigerated unit containing a soft package. Sasaki texts Touka, and they meet at his apartment.

Sasaki cuts the package contents up into small pieces that she can lift with chopsticks and swallow without chewing. He sets them on a plate, and Touka smiles at the additional garnish that he’s added along the side: slices of apple, cut into rabbit shapes.

“Dessert,” he says, “if you don’t desert,” but even to him it sounds weak.

He doesn’t know if she realizes her hand is touching her belly. He doesn’t know if it’s his imagination that she seems paler than usual.

This is hideous. There’s no way that she could really be doing this. Is he enabling her to do something horrible, allowing her to hurt herself in a way that can’t be mended? No child is worth this. He hates that he is hesitating to stop her.

“You don’t need to do this,” he manages finally, and in response she holds out her hand, sternly, empty palm up. He passes her a set of disposable chopsticks, and she sits, and cracks them apart.

“Itadakimasu,” Touka announces, and lifts the first piece to her face. She takes a breath, and then puts it in her mouth. Works it in her teeth. Swallows. And then takes another piece.

She finishes everything, without hesitation, without so much as a shudder, as if it’s normal food, as if it’s something she’s eaten her whole life. Is it just his imagination, or do her cheeks have a little more color? When she’s finished, she sets the chopsticks down on the napkin, and smiles at him, and his chest tightens. Maybe this can happen, maybe this will really work, and just look at her, smiling at him like everything will turn out just fine, Touka, a _mother_ , the mother of his _child_ , and he can’t help it, he says, “You’re _beautiful._ ”

Whatever she was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that.

“Huh?” she sputters, and yelps when he goes around the table and grabs her and lifts her up into the air.

“S-Sasaki —!”

“Touka,” Sasaki cries, “I’m going to be a father! And you’re going to be a mother! We’re going to be parents, we’re going to have a _family_ ,” and after a moment Touka’s arms wrap around him as well, folding tightly behind his neck.

“Together,” she echoes, and grips him tighter as he spins her around.

“Stop already!” she laughs. “Sasaki, slow down at least, I’m dizzy,” and he sets her back down on a chair and kisses her exposed left brow, her hair-hidden right eye, her still-laughing mouth. Then he plucks up one of the apple rabbits from the plate and holds it to her lips.

“Here,” he says, “you deserve it,” and Touka’s eye widens. She pauses — then opens her mouth, and allows him to press the rabbit in. She swallows, barely chewing. He reaches for another rabbit, but before he can grab it, Touka sets her hand on his.

“Maybe later,” she says. She stands, and walks toward him, pushing him back until his legs press against the counter.

“Maybe,” she says, “I can have another kind of dessert,” and he shoves the plate aside so there’s space for him to lie down as she presses her body to his.

:::

Mutsuki is excited. Shirazu is awed, and a little confused. Urie is disinterested. Saiko seems, unexpectedly, a little jealous.

“Don’t think you can steal Mother away from us,” she says, poking the bulge of Touka’s stomach, and Touka makes a small, confused frown.

“Saiko,” Sasaki says with a forced laugh, “you’re so funny,” and there’s enough of an edge in his voice that Saiko blinks at him.

“Relax, Mama, it’s a joke,” she says. “Of course I’m excited to have another sibling. I can even help you out a lot, you know! I have S-rank in a _lot_ of sims that have babies in them.”

Touka grants her a thin smile. It’s the same kind she gives to Arima whenever he comes over, even when he goes out of his way to organize her receiving increasing amounts of meat.

“You’re sure you’re feeling well?” he asks.

“She’s vomiting,” Sasaki says uneasily, and Touka rolls her eyes.

“Not more than what’s usual for a human woman.”

“A human woman?” Arima echoes, and Touka flushes.

“I mean, for a human baby. For someone with a human baby. I’m so tired recently,” Touka says, “excuse me, I need to use the bathroom,” and she leaves the two of them in the kitchen.

“She seems healthy,” Arima says, sipping the coffee Touka made for him. “For someone going through what she is.”

Sasaki looks at him. “Touka is strong,” he agrees. “I don’t think I could do what she’s doing.”

It’s nice to have everyone’s support but it’s nicer still to have Touka around more often now, to have her body beside his every night instead of only sometimes. There’s a warm contentment to their meals too, now that they can share them. In her presence, all the lingering, biting voices that have followed him through what parts of his life that he remembers are calm and silent.

And though someone else might not have perceived it, Sasaki knows her so well that he can see it. It’s in the way she slowly works her way through Saiko’s library of loaned games — in the way she and Mutsuki and Yoriko make plans to drink coffee after shopping for baby clothes — in the way she loudly argues with Urie and Shirazu, not backing down, not letting go. It’s in the way she gropes at the collar of Sasaki’s shirt when he kisses her farewell in the morning.

“I need to go,” he whispers, and he sees it again, in her furrowed brow and pout.

“Fine,” she huffs, and before he’s finished tucking her in she’s asleep again, and there it is, he sees it: her trust that he will return.

:::

Everything goes so calmly that he isn’t prepared when Shirazu calls and says, “Hey there, Sassan, so, you know, as the leader of us and all, I thought that I should be the one to tell you, now, uh, are you sitting down? Basically, don’t panic.”

 _“What shouldn’t I panic about?”_ Sasaki demands, and Shirazu says, “Fuck.”

Sasaki drops everything he’s doing and goes.

:::

The closed sign is up at :re, but all the lights are on. Sasaki crashes against the locked door and raps at it desperately until Mutsuki opens it.

“It’s fine!” Mutsuki shouts, “she’s fine, it’s over,” but it doesn’t stop Sasaki from rushing anyway, so fast that he topples over a chair. He bursts, yelling, into the apartment area above the cafe that Yomo lives in.

“Touka!”

As Mutsuki said, it’s over. He feels faint at the sight of blood, and then faint again, at the sight of Touka among it, holding a squalling bundle.

“Sasaki,” Touka says, and she’s glowing, and Yomo and the gathered quinxes step aside, letting Sasaki shuffle forward. He holds out shaky arms, and Touka passes him a small, small, small bundle. Sasaki feels the breath leave his body.

“It’s male,” Mutsuki says.

And so warm. And so small. Its face is mottled and moist and he understands that it looks like any other baby he might have seen before, but it’s also somehow the most beautiful thing he’s laid eyes on, aside from its mother. Before Sasaki realizes it a tear has dropped from his eye and onto the infant’s wrinkled skin, and Sasaki apologizes and flushes while the room bursts into laughter, while the baby begins to whimper, while Shirazu slaps his back and Saiko dabs at his eye.

Sasaki hands the baby back and Touka takes it to her breast.

“What will you name him?” Yomo asks, and before Sasaki can explain that they haven’t come to any decision yet, Touka answers.

“Ken.”

“Ken,” Sasaki echoes. “That sounds...” He trails off, feeling uneasy for some reason, but now Saiko is cooing, “Hi there, Ken-chan, hehe,” and Shirazu is trying to fit his finger in the baby’s hand, and even Urie has taken off a headphone and is watching the proceedings beside a smiling Mutsuki, and Sasaki can think of nothing else to say except, “It’s good. Ken.”

“Alriight, team! Let’s move out!” Shirazu decides sometime later. “We gotta give Sassan and Touka-san some space!”

They gather their things and go. Yomo bundles up sheets and cloths to take away and clean, and Sasaki says, “Thank you, Yomo-san,” because it’s clear he helped somehow, and Yomo nods at him and leaves.

Once everyone is gone, the quiet of the room feels strange. Touka drops back on her pillow, exhausted, and shifts carefully as Sasaki lies down on the bed beside her.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he says, and Touka shakes her head drowsily.

“It’s alright.”

He brushes her hair back behind her ear, and continues combing it gently with his fingers as both Touka and Ken fall asleep.

:::

He wants to ask how it is that she ended up being at Yomo’s place to give birth, but the timing is never quite right, and as the months pass he lets it go.

It makes sense — doesn’t it? Maybe she was visiting Yomo when she was set upon by hard and sudden labor pains. Caught up in the moment, she didn’t call him, or anyone, until it was all over. It must have happened fast. He wasn’t sure how the quinxes had gotten word before he did, but it had been Yomo who called them — maybe he panicked too. Maybe he didn’t know Sasaki’s work number. Maybe...maybe...

 _It doesn’t matter,_ Sasaki tells himself firmly. Who cares? Who has time to worry about this? Certainly not him. Raising a child is hard work, and leaves little room for anything else. It doesn’t help that Touka is continuing to have a hard time eating foods.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says after vomiting dinner for the third day in a row.

“Let’s go see a doctor,” he offers, again, but her eyes narrow.

“ _No._ ”

 _That’s fine too,_ he tells himself firmly. Touka has always been able to handle herself. She’s watching him, waiting for him to protest, and he smiles at her encouragingly.

Who cares? Who has time to worry about this? Certainly not him. Ken is a shrieking, thrashing, persistently hungry baby, and even in moments of repose Sasaki is nervous, thinking of the future. His fears finally come true the day he and Touka decide to offer Ken real food. The baby closes his teething mouth around a spoon of applesauce, and immediately coughs it out, wailing horrifically.

“Well,” Touka mutters, “that stuff _does_ taste terrible.”

But Ken won’t eat anything else either. With some chagrin they fill his bottles with decaffeinated coffee, and finally get him to sleep.

They curl up together on the couch, tired. The silence rings.

“I’m sorry,” Sasaki says finally, quietly. “I’m sorry that he’s...”

Touka glares.

“Don’t apologize. It’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“But —”

“But nothing. Just because he’s a ghoul doesn’t mean he won’t have a life worthy of living. Don’t,” she warns, “tell me otherwise.”

He doesn’t. Instead he wraps his arms around her, burying his face into her hair. After a minute she rolls around, turns toward him, relaxes.

These are his favorite moments — when everything is quiet, when everything is mundane, when he and Touka feel like one average pair in a long history of normal human parents. These are his favorite moments, seconded only by the moments when Ken gets large enough that he can join them. Ken listens raptly in Touka’s arms as Sasaki reads aloud, holding a book up above the three of them. He reads on and on until his arms ache and they all doze off, together.

:::

The meetings with the quinxes that Sasaki sometimes has in his apartment have been getting tense. Many of their investigations into certain ghouls have met with sudden, inexplicable dead ends. Everyone’s gloom, however, is usually lightened by Touka’s espresso, and Ken’s antics. He crawls enthusiastically around the room as they discuss, and more than once his relentless fascination with Urie’s headphones is enough to dispel the uneasy mood.

“You’re so adorable,” Saiko sighs in resignation.

Ken’s pale hair is growing out, with a slight wave. The color is a little weird, but Sasaki figures that his own hair came from _somewhere,_ and when Ken starts growing black hairs, Sasaki laughs.

“It must be genetic after all.”

Touka combs Ken’s hair. “Hmm.”

Sasaki waits for Ken to come into his other inheritances. He doesn’t know when it is that ghouls start getting their kagune, but every once in a while — probably more frequently than is necessary — Sasaki and Touka run a hand across Ken’s back, feeling.

“They’ll be rinkaku,” he reminds Touka as she rubs Ken’s shoulders. She shrugs.

“Just checking.”

“Maybe they won’t come at all,” he says hopefully. But Ken is going through increasing amounts of meat every day. Finally, on a particularly pouty evening, Sasaki leaves Ken wailing in his crib for just an instant, and hears the _crack_ of wood breaking.

_“Ken!”_

Both he and Touka race into the room, where Ken is shrieking on the ground, surrounded by railings that are quartered and shattered. Touka snatches him up, plucking splinters from his flesh, and the moment each leaves, the little cuts seal together into unbroken skin. She holds the baby against her, and they both peer at Ken’s back, where a tiny rinkaku is descending back into his skin.

Touka makes a noise that sounds a lot like a sigh of relief. Sasaki blinks at her.

“I’m just glad it finally showed up,” she explains hastily. “And I’m glad that he — that he took after you. With — with the quick healing, I mean.”

“Oh,” Sasaki says.

That night, no matter how hard he thinks, he can’t remember any time that he told her that his kakuhou allowed him to heal quickly from his injuries.

But he can think of dozens of reasons how she could have figured this out otherwise — maybe through direct observation — maybe through one of the quinxes — maybe even through Arima. The next time they have a meeting, Sasaki asks, and Arima watches him carefully.

“No,” he says, removing his glasses and wiping them, “I haven’t told her that. You’re certain you didn’t tell her yourself?”

“I’m sure,” Sasaki says.

“And your recent investigations,” Arima continues. “They haven’t been fruitful?”

“No,” Sasaki answers in confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Arima walks to the window, looks out. “And, Ken...”

“My son? Why do you mention him? What are you thinking?”

But Arima doesn’t says anything, just puts his glasses on and dismisses him. The next day, Sasaki is summoned into a sudden investigators meeting. Mado’s squad is present, along with a couple others, and everyone’s expressions are sober. The moment he sits down, one of the investigators clears her throat.

“I won’t mince words here, Sasaki. Kirishima Touka is a ghoul.”

Sasaki stares blankly. Laughs.

“W-what? Is this...a joke?”

“It’s not,” Akira says, putting her hand on his shoulder, and one by one the investigators begin to recite gathered evidence, facts, gut feelings. Touka’s employment at :re and its connection with the crackdown at Anteiku. The fact that the quinxes haven’t been as successful at their missions, and its connection with Touka coming to live with him. The possibility that Touka is Rabbit, the murderer of Akira’s father.

“It can’t be,” Sasaki mumbles, but even as he says it, he feels his stomach dropping. They keep talking and their words become a muddle that Sasaki can barely hear over the sound of his own brain whispering with a voice as sharp as a thousand bladed legs.

 _Remember?_ it asks. _Think. Remember. Think._

The way she swallows food or else chews it for much longer than people like Mutsuki usually do. Her lack of cooking talent. Her ease at eating human meat all through her pregnancy, and how well she’d looked then, so much brighter than either before or after. How she always has dinner at the cafe, with Yomo; how her portions are always small. He remembers how awed and attracted he’s always been to her fearlessness of ghouls, of his subordinates, even his own kakuhou.

 _It can’t be. It can’t._ But even as he thinks it, something in his gut knows better. And the voice asks, singsong: _Did you really not care when Touka gave birth in that apartment? Or did you just not want to face the truth?_

“That ghoul,” declares one of the investigators, “needs to be disposed of immediately!”

“D- _disposed_?” Sasaki starts, but Akira has anticipated it; she grabs his sleeve, prevents him from standing. He shakes his arm, but Akira only clenches harder, and forces him back fully into his chair.

“I knew it!” the investigator exclaims. “I knew it! These half-ghoul investigators aren’t worth the effort. They’re sympathizers, and they should be eliminated with all the other ghouls! For all we know, Sasaki has been leaking information knowingly to Rabbit —”

“Sasaki had no idea!” Akira snaps, and the investigator falls silent with a huff.

“Sasaki,” Akira repeats, “had no idea. He is not a sympathizer. This ghoul has been misleading him for months. Now that he knows, he can do what is necessary.” She turns toward him. “Right?”

“I…but my…my son,” he says weakly, and one of the investigators quickly interjects.

“Your son is fine. We believe that he can still be raised for the benefit of the CCG. But for him to be safe, he must be separated, as soon as possible.”

“For his safety,” someone else emphasizes.

“And yours, Sasaki-kun. And more importantly, the safely of the public.”

He is quiet again.

“It can’t be possible,” he says, and Akira frowns at him, apologetically.

“Arima has confirmed it,” she says. “Sasaki, that ghoul is a murderer. It’s been _using_ you. We have no idea how much it knows now. Since you didn’t realize it, you won’t be punished. But you must kill it.”

Everyone is watching him. Some of them are bent slightly, and Sasaki can practically see their fingers beneath the table, stroking the clasps of their suitcases.

“Of course,” Sasaki says. “I’ll handle it.”

:::

They tell him it needs to be tonight, and Sasaki agrees, but denies a team, denies backup, denies to have anyone formulate a plan for him. He walks home alone, chest tight.

The voice in his head is hissing.

_They’ll be tailing you anyway. Making sure that you’ll do it. Making sure you don’t run._

_If you do, they’ll kill you. They’ll kill Touka too. And then what will happen to Ken?_

He needs to do it. Touka has been lying to him, using him. He is still standing in front of his door, and he is sure investigators are watching, so he turns the knob and walks in.

“I’m home,” he calls, feebly. Ken on the floor mouthing a spare pair of glasses, and burbles happily at the sight of his father. Most of his hair is black now, and Sasaki presses his face into it as he picks him up.

“Hello, Ken-chan. Where’s your mother?” he asks.

He hopes, for one wild instant, that she somehow isn’t here. But then Touka’s voices reaches him — “I’m in the kitchen!” — and Sasaki trudges forward.

She’s making coffee on their little machine, as usual. On a normal day Sasaki would come sit at the counter to receive a mug, but today he hangs at the doorway, and Touka glances back questioningly.

“What’s the matter?” she asks.

“Nothing,” Sasaki laughs, scratching his chin.

Her eye narrows immediately.

“What’s the matter?” she repeats, turning away from the machine and facing him.

Sasaki opens his mouth, and then closes it. They stand. In the silence, Ken begins to wriggle, and then to squall a little, with boredom, or perhaps dismay at the way his parents are staring tensely at each other.

“You’re holding him too tightly,” Touka says, but Sasaki doesn’t let up. Frowning, Touka walks toward him and reaches to take Ken from his arms, but Sasaki steps back, keeping him away.

“Sasaki?” she says uneasily. She is so close. On a normal day, this is when he would reach forward and embrace her, kiss her, murmur his affections.

But.

Today.

“Please,” Sasaki says. “Please tell me you aren’t a ghoul.”

Touka stiffens.

“Give Ken to me,” she says, but Sasaki turns away, clutching him tighter. Ken whimpers in distress.

“Tell me it isn’t true,” he begs. “Please, please tell me you aren’t a ghoul, that you haven’t been using me for information,” and now Touka’s gaze flares.

“ _Me_ using you? All this time, and _I’m_ the one using you? The one using you,” Touka spits, “isn’t _me,_ ” but all Sasaki can hear is that she isn’t denying it.

“You’re a ghoul,” he says breathlessly. “I can’t believe it.”

 _I’m sorry,_ he hears that biting voice in his head say. _I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m —_

“I’m supposed to…” Sasaki’s mutters trail. “The CCG…I’m supposed to…”

Touka draws herself up. “Sasaki,” she says. “Don’t.”

“Did you kill Investigator Mado?” Sasaki asks. And when Touka doesn’t answer: “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”

“Sasaki,” Touka calls with a cracking voice. “You can. You know it, don’t you? Please. _Think._ Remember!”

“Remember what? You’ve been lying to me! This whole time, you’ve been — leaking my team’s information —and I — you’re a ghoul. They think that I’m a sympathizer. And Ken — if I don’t, then they’ll — so I need to —”

“Sasaki, you don’t need to, you don’t need to listen to them,” she says, and steps back again as he advances on her. He keeps stepping forward, until her back bumps the counter. Her knuckles are white, and even knowing what he knows now, he’s shaken to see her eye flicker black and red.

Sensing something wrong, Ken starts to wail.  Touka reaches and before Sasaki can stop her, she snatches Ken from his grasp.

“Don’t! Don’t touch him!” Sasaki shouts.

“Don’t _touch_ him? He’s my son! He’s _our_ son!” Her voice is a growl. “Sasaki, I’ve been waiting, and waiting. I thought this — I thought it would be okay like this — but it’s time for you to wake up. It’s time for you to come back. You’re being used! You don’t need to follow their orders!”

His head is aching. He grips it with one hand. The voice is grating in his skull.

“What,” he gasps, “are you _talking_ about,” and Touka lunges, aiming a kick at him that he only just dodges. She lands, reorients herself, and begins to run toward the door as Ken wails. Sasaki snaps around, jabbing forward impulsively with his kagune. Though she dodges the first, she trips on the second, and skids across the ground, curled protectively around Ken. There’s a crack as her head smacks against the wall, and she hisses in pain. Her grip slackens. Ken is sobbing.

“S-Sasaki,” she manages as he comes closer.

“Haise,” she tries, as he bends down to collect Ken.

And then, finally.

“ _Kaneki._ ”

Sasaki freezes.

“What?”

He’s grabbing too tightly. Ken shrieks, and Touka cries out, and Sasaki yells as there’s an eruption of blades and color and electric, fiery air. Sasaki drops Ken and leaps back, arms lacerated.

 _No,_ he thinks in panic, but before Ken drops to the ground, the roil of air puffs larger from his small back, cushions him as he drops. He bounces a bit, and Touka grabs him, eyes wide with awe.

“Ukaku,” she breathes. “Ukaku too?”

Sasaki isn’t saying anything. He is kneeling on the ground, trembling, but not from the pain of the ukaku needles riddling his forearms. His eyes are wide and searching but see nothing, nothing, nothing but old cafes and black vests, rabbit-shaped latte foam, centipedes, a mask with bared teeth, a tall chapel ceiling and teeth and dark hair against the base of his neck. Touka is speaking, Touka is saying _something_ , but Ken’s ukaku are continuing to flare brighter, brighter, brighter, and all Sasaki can hear is a voice saying, _How beautiful._

Ken is quieting now, his kagune extinguishing like candles, out of fuel. Through the biting fog in his brain, Sasaki hears thunks, several deep noises that he understands are knocks on the door.

 _They’re here,_ he hears in his brain.

The voice, he realizes, is his own.

Touka stands, a wearied Ken in her arms. She looks toward the door.

“They’re Doves,” Sasaki says. Touka looks at him with wide eyes, and words pass between them, unsaid. Touka places Ken in his crib. They take a shaky breath. They stand, side-by-side, and Sasaki reaches for her hand, holds it, squeezes. She squeezes back, and he clenches his other hand, cracks a knuckle. His mind is racing, and all the pieces scattered through it don’t fit together yet, but he knows one thing for certain: this is his family.

He will not leave it.

The door opens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> In case you are interested — I've written a (really really really loose) plot summary of what happens after the end of this fic, and you can find it here: ["Red Child epilogue"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3503000/chapters/7747328).

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> In case you're interested, I've written a (very very loose) plot summary of what happens after this fic. You can find it here: ["Red Child epilogue"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3503000/chapters/7747328).


End file.
